


Plastic Dinosaurs

by weepingalpacafuneral



Series: Street Smarts [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Also characters that just have like extreme dad vibes will show up, Because goddamnit Peter Parker doesn't actually need a father figure, But goddamnit the universe (me) is gonna give him plently for comedic effect, Canon-Typical Violence, Frank + Child is a combination that is both hilarious and immensely sad, Frank Castle is a dad let him have dad vibes, Here there be cameos, Hispanic Frank Castle, Honestly Natasha will probably show up so this Spidey is just a bit more deadly, I am so sorry about the tags, More vigilantes/assassins will show up because of course, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rated teen for swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24230119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingalpacafuneral/pseuds/weepingalpacafuneral
Summary: Ok but what if Frank Castle found out that Spiderman was, you know, a child?  And it was actually cathartic for Frank to deal with a kid in a vaguely similar situation, and it was cathartic for Peter to deal with a (semi) father figure in a vaguely similar situation.  You see, the reverse traumas even out into something that can be a remotely passable relationship!Featuring:Beginning of S1 of the Punisher Francis Castiglione beard.  Please visualize this beard at all times, it is the most important thing in this story.Peter Parker has an anxiety disorder, Marvel, fucking deal with it.  (They probably won't.  I will.)Cameos (and like, longer cameos that just turn into appearances and like, characters just sorta being there) from most of New York's vigilante population, some of Marvel's assassins, and other people in the periphery of those groups!
Relationships: Frank Castle & Matt Murdock, Frank Castle & Peter Parker, Past Frank Castle/Maria Castle - Relationship
Series: Street Smarts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732114
Comments: 23
Kudos: 220





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up for canon typical violence for The Punisher. He shoots some people, and it isn't described in much detail.  
> Organized crime and drug trade are also mentioned as a plot point, although not in detail.  
> Also a building is on fire and someone is in it, although they're fine.  
> A character also has a panic attack, which is described briefly in some detail, but without much triggering description.

Fisk was at it again, and Red was benched with "another fucking collapsed lung" according to his nurse friend Claire. It was up to him, apparently, since Red's superfriends didn't "run in the same circles as us, Frank, if you would just pay attention". That was a fuckin' lie, of course, but he knows better than to mess with Jessica Jones, even if she makes a good drinking buddy, and the Hero of Harlem was far too responsible to help the fuckin' Punisher. Blondie was just a fuckin' weirdo, although apparently Jess was his older sister type mentee and he was just fucked up from magic monks that raised him or some shit. Frank could see why Red liked these people. They were his brand of weird.

Unfortunately for Frank, though, Red's brand of weird wasn't gonna help him with Fisk right now, so he was freezing his ass off on a turn of the century brick roof in the middle of the Kitchen taking potshots at some dumbass dealer's warehouse. A great hobby for a New York December. At least Frank had the decency to cover for Red while he was benched, fucking lot of good that did him. At least Red's people are less scared of him now, although Karen never was that scared of anyone or anything to begin with. Red's beau was almost downright nice to him at this point, although keeping someone from being shot is a pretty good relationship improver.

"Roof's so lonely I'm thinkin' about Red's people." He shakes his head.

"I need to get some fuckin' connections. Whoever said the Punisher works alone ain't taken down that many drug operations before, fuckin' hell-"

Frank's night time musings were interrupted by a hail of gunfire and shouting that seemed, at least to him, disproportionate to the windows he had shot to remind whoever owns the warehouse that the Punisher is watching, or some big cinematic shit like that.

"And I thought it was gonna be a quiet fuckin' night."

\--

This was fine. This was fine. Peter had been around guns before, usually just pistols that he took off muggers and bent in half. This was fine. Peter had been shot at before. By one person, usually. With bad aim. In situations the Spidey Sense could monitor and tell him where not to be and when. 

This was not comparable to Peter's previous experiences dealing with guns. A lone mugger in an alleyway is not the natural predecessor to several dozen men with very large and loud and probably military grade guns with decent aim and a lot of ammo. And the warehouse was made of wood, too, so the support beams Peter could hide behind were splintering under gunfire. The Spidey Sense was so loud he couldn't even really do anything about the men other than know that they were there, and they wanted to hurt him. It hurt like his panic attacks, except this was worse, because he was in a warehouse full of murderous drug dealers who very much wanted to shoot him, and the Spidey Sense knew that, and it did not fucking like it, and it wanted him OUT. 

He found the most sheltered support beam and hid behind it, dragging a crate haphazardly in front of him before curling up and holding his head. No one could really get up here without pretty fancy parkour or superpowers, or a really big ladder, and that logic was enough for Peter's lizard brain right then. So he hid. And eventually the gunfire stopped.

\--

By the time Frank had gotten to a point where he could safely assess the warehouse, he was able to pick a few of the more zealous guys off. An enthusiasm to shoot things does not make a good guard, evidently, and a couple easy shots later, he was inside the building.

Some of the guys shouted when they saw him, but a few of their colleagues' bodies later and a view of Frank's vest later, they ran out of the warehouse. Someone else could deal with them later. He could tell Red to tell his cop.

The warehouse was fairly empty, with some of the remnants of the Triad's heroin stashed away, and a small cache of weapons that was probably for use by the organization who owned the building. The guns weren't good enough to keep, so he sabotaged them and kept moving. The heroin could go in the river, and so could most of the weapons.

If this really was Fisk's operation, he was hiring some shitty floor managers. 

"I gotta half a mind to be insulted, Fisky boy, this ain't the operation Red talks about trashin', this is some real goon shit right here."

A little part of Frank hopes that Matt will hear his jokes or musings when he talks out loud, the little part that smiles when he sees a camera and knows that Micro's watching.

"I really got a lotta snoopy assholes in my life for a wanted man."

Heading up the stairwell to continue his sweep of the warehouse on the second floor, he finds more crates of the Triad's heroin. He might as well burn the place, if there's so much heroin. Not worth the trouble of puttin' it in the river if the warehouse will burn all right, and upon inspection, the warehouse's wood is splintered and fairly dry, like it'll go up nicely. He won't be askin' after Red's cop after all, apparently. 

Frank was right, and the warehouse goes up smoothly with a little accelerant. It's not near enough to any other buildings or residential neighborhoods that he should hang around to check for fall out or civilians, so he packs up his guns and gets ready to head out when he sees someone on the roof.

\--

Peter doesn't know what happened, he was hiding from the gunfire and then it stopped, so he hid some more for good measure, and to rest a little, after the panic attack, and then there was smoke everywhere and the Spidey Sense started up again, banging around the inside of his skull with adrenaline. After a moment of acting out third grade fire safety lessons, Peter remembers that he can climb walls, so he does. He makes it out onto the roof, or at least the half of the roof that hasn't collapsed into the burning building and starts looking around for an easy way down not covered in fire. His web shooters are pretty low, scarily so, so a non swinging option would be best. There's a building that should be close enough to jump to, probably, which is also probably an opportunity to test out the glider addition to his suit. It can't hurt, at least.

\--

He can't believe he missed someone on the top floor.

"Fucking amateur move, Castle."

Frank unpacks some of his equipment, just in case, but it looks like the person on the roof is gearing up to jump, which might save him the trouble. Red's method, really. If someone "falls" off a building, and you don't stay to check on them, you didn't really kill them, probably.

He was right, the person moves to jump, and Frank repacks his equipment for the second time with the dutiful nature of a soldier, which, you know, it is.

What Frank doesn't expect is a red and blue cannon ball with slightly singed edges to come barreling onto the roof from the burning building and to roll across the roof to him and unfurl into a gangly person in garishly bright primary colored spandex.

What Frank doesn't expect even more is for that person to immediately hit the ground and whimper "I'm too young to die is that the Punisher oh my god".

Frank now has a clear view of the emblem on the person's back. It's a stylized spider.

"My fucking luck tonight."

\--

He jumped. He took May's metaphorical leap of faith literally, and he actually made it easily, throwing himself onto the roof in something that vaguely felt like a dry land cannonball a little too hard, pushing him into the middle of the roof instead of landing on the edge like he had planned.

The problem he had now was that someone else was on the roof.

And it wasn't, as logic would dictate, Daredevil, policing Hell's Kitchen's roof tops. Daredevil was plenty scary, sure, but Peter was fast, and he could run away. The Devil delt in hand to hand, and Peter was shit at that, but he was fast. And he had aerial transport.

The problem was that the person on the roof was not Daredevil.

It was Frank fucking Castle, mass murder, terrorist, vigilante, oh, haven't you heard? The fucking Punisher.

It was like a bad joke Mr. Stark would tell, except Mr. Stark would never ever let him exist in the same room as Frank Castle's name being said, even.

So Peter was on a roof, slightly singed, and at the mercy of the fucking Punisher.

The only thing he could think to say was that he was too young to die.

"Also please don't eat me."

\--

"Why do you fuckin' think I'm gonna eatcha?"

The person on the ground, who is apparently Spiderman, goes stock still and tries not to breathe.

"Because what if you *did* and what if-"

It sinks in slowly and sickeningly, like the crunch of a broken bone that had been covered up by the adrenaline till now.

This person- Spiderman- was a kid. Probably around the same age as Lisa woulda been.

He wants to vomit. And cry. He wants to call David, to hug Maria, to hug his children.

He can't do any of those things.

He has to- he has to establish that he isn't a threat. He calmed kids in Khandar from the bombs, he can do it here. He can. He has to. 

He keeps his voice low and neutral, diplomatic and welcoming.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna hurt you, it's gonna be fine."

He moves slowly, telegraphing his movements and exaggerating them. 

"You got any injuries?"

The kid looks up at him, and the eyes on his mask are wide white mirrors and they show Frank a tired and soot covered face in the reflection. He skitters away from Frank, crab walking as fast as he can towards the edge of the roof.

Frank raises his hands in submission and sits on his edge of the roof.

"I ain't gonna hurt you."

The kid keeps looking at him with the same wide eyes before blinking them all at once, the white of the mask swallowed up by the motion.

"But-"

"You seen the trial, I take it?"

Frank doesn't get an answer, so he continues.

"She woulda been about your age, by now, I think. She- she woulda been 16, almost 17, I think. She loved dinosaurs, a lot. The little plastic ones you can get at the dollar store? Always insisted they were for babies when she got older, but she loved em just the same. Put em on her shelf. Knew all the names n everythin."

The kid stopped shrinking back a little, and the eyes of his suit were pinched up.

"I'm sorry about your daughter."

He vaulted over the side of the roof after finishing his sentence, swinging off without another word.


	2. Well This Is Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vigilantes- even heroes, if that's what Barton and the Widow were calling themselves nowadays- got hurt. Sometimes they got hurt bad. It's part of the job. But Frank isn't ready to see Spiderman get hurt, especially not badly, and especially not while he's trying to reconcile his complicated paternal instincts towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings:  
> Punisher canon typical violence, including the attempted sexual assault of a minor character that isn't described at all, a stabbing described with moderate detail, and the gunshot wound of a minor which is dealt with in detail and is the main focus of the chapter. 
> 
> Vague medical dealings (the author is not *that* good at describing medical processes) in relation to the injured minor. Blood transfusions are shown, but everything else is pretty canon typical for Punisher/Defenders.
> 
> A character has a panic attack as a result of the gunshot injury and subsequent medical intervention, and this is described in moderate detail.

The second time Frank runs into Spiderman he's filling in for Red again, not because Red is injured, but because Nelson had Page call him to take over because somethin' somethin' court in the morning and Red was apparently being a supremely uncooperative and obstinate partner. Karen had dictated that part to him verbatim, trying not to laugh while she helped Nelson tame their vigilante. 

Hell's Kitchen was a real clusterfuck, Frank will give Red that. The docks were the worst of it; heroin kept coming in through the vacuum the Chinese had left. So that was where he was, perched high enough to see comings and goings on the streets and low enough to be able to get down to the streets if necessary. The night had been slow so far, and the docks were pretty much empty. Either Red had been picking up slack, or burning down the warehouse had worked. Staying at the docks seemed unlikely to yield any results. He could either head further into Hell's Kitchen, or stay. Frank opted to head into the Kitchen; he was taking over for Red, after all, so he might as well stop some muggings in his territory. Plus, having the Punisher show up in a given area stops all crime for about 48 hours by virtue of either people being too scared of the Punisher to do any crimes, or increased police force because the Punisher was there. 

Frank climbed down the fire escape of his chosen perch and headed for the streets. He was getting too old to jump roofs like Red and his gang; the scar tissue was really getting in the way. Besides, Hell's Kitchen at 1 AM is a pretty good time to be inconspicuous. Unfortunately for Frank, recognizing an inconspicuous, quiet night means that something bad will happen immediately after.

He hears three people: A woman screaming, albeit muffledly, a man yelling, and someone else. Frank isn't Red, he has to walk closer to hear who the other person is, but when he circumvents some dumpsters and positions himself behind the group of people, he recognizes the voice.

"Hey- hey you can just put that down, ok? You're a good guy, you're a good guy, you don't have to do this- just put the gun down-"

Spiderman is interrupted by another flurry of movement as the man waves his pistol in the air, shouting unintelligibly. 

Frank isn't Red, but he can hear the gun cock immediately. He's behind the group, so he has the element of surprise, and of height; he's standing on a low roof. But he has to think about the situational factors; the man could shoot at either of them. The woman is the easiest target; she's already restrained, she's closest to him. Spiderman is a kid, yeah, but he’s still a vigilante. Frank doesn't have a gun he can access fast enough. He has maybe a second left to make his decision.

Frank goes with the most likely target, the woman, and he pulls a knife from his vest to incapacitate the man while pulling the woman out of his grasp and shielding her with his body.

He's focused on the pressure of his knife biting into flesh and the momentum of the woman struggling free to the other side of the alley, and he's surprised by the ring of the gunshot even though he's been trained not to be, even though he hasn't been, not for a long time.

He's more surprised by the cry that follows. The man's aim was off, the bullet should have gone into a wall, or a trash can. It didn't, though. The bullet went into someone else instead, and it wasn't him. Frank glances at the woman cursorily, but she's just crying and a bit dirty, not injured. The man is lying on the ground, knife still in him, and is gurgling, but that's not where the cry came from either. And Frank isn't hurt, he would probably notice, even through the adrenaline. He takes a moment to turn around, and. Oh. Spiderman was there. And he was shot. In the gut, it looked like, but the stretchy material of his suit mixed with the red made it difficult to tell where the bullet had gone.

Frank stands there for a minute, the woman crying, her attacker crumpled on the floor, and a kid shrieking in pain. He stands there for what feels like minutes, but is probably seconds when his brain yells at him Triage.

So he does; he gives the woman directions to the 15th Precinct, tells her to ask for Brett Mahoney and to contact Nelson and Murdock at Law and Jessica Jones for more help. She nods at him briefly, whispers a quiet thank you, and dashes off. He leaves the man there; he won't be able to get up without help. 

He moves to Spiderman. 

"Hospital no hospital?"

He doesn't respond verbally, but he shakes his head.

"No hospital?" Clarity is better than giving away a secret identity.

Spiderman nods weakly.

"Ok. Ok. Fuck."

"You got someone to call?"

Frank thinks he's going to nod again, but then his head falls slightly to the side and he won't respond to any of Frank's words.

He calls Red.

"I need your nurse friend. I need her real fuckin' bad."

He pauses to check on the kid again.

"No, not for me. Just-"

\--

Foggy is interrupted in his futile attempts to make Matt go to bed by the very loud and very obnoxious ringtone of Matt's phone. He almost wishes he hadn't sent Karen home, but she and Matt build off each other's chaotic energy, and he only needed to get Matt to fall asleep. They had a case in the morning, at 7:00, for god sake. He answers the phone anyways; he bullied Matt into sleeping half an hour ago, and if he woke up, Foggy might actually commit a crime. Not that he wasn't already committing crimes, like aiding and abetting vigilantism. 

Matt's phone is screaming Frank Frank Frank, and Foggy gets the sinking suspicion that the person calling is Frank Castle. That really isn't fair; Foggy had asked Karen to ask him if he could take over for Matt in an effort to make Matt sleep before court. Frank Castle was halfway to becoming part of the Nelson and Murdock vigilante family. If he wasn’t already.

He answers the phone with a weary hello, but he's interrupted before he can get the words out of his mouth.

"I need your nurse friend. I need her real fuckin' bad."

"Oh, fuck. Are you-" It doesn't seem like Frank even registers that it's Foggy on the phone, and he once again interrupts a pertinent and very valid question Foggy is well within his rights to ask.

"No, not for me."

"Fuck, ok."

"I don't- my apartment is too far. Can I use-"

"How bad is it? Who-"

"I can't, I need to-"

"Do you need any help?"

"Just the nurse. And a place."

"I'll call Claire."

"Thank you." Frank's parting words were tired in a way Foggy wasn't used to, almost mirroring Foggy's after a night of patching Matt up. Almost. Frank didn't have a Matt, he was a Matt, and Karen was as close to a Foggy as he had. His metaphor was getting too confusing, and he needed to call Claire anyways.

\--

"Matt?"

"No, it's-"

"Jess?"

"No-"

"Luke woulda called me himself."

"No, it's Frank."

"Ok."

"Can you get to Matt's?"

Claire's silence was pronounced.

"They still got their pissing match?"

"Not as bad. I need you here, though. He said it was urgent."

"I'll be there."

Claire Temple was a goddamn saint. She raised heaven and earth for these people, and a couple of times, she raised goddamn gravestones so they could crawl out of them. She was in this far, so why not. She was unemployed anyways, not much to lose on that front. What was playing nurse for the Punisher when she already played one for Daredevil, Jessica Jones, the Hero of Harlem, and the Immortal Iron Fist?

She was a goddamn saint. A saint with a go bag. 

Walking through the door of Matt's apartment, she noticed two things. First, that Foggy had gotten out the plastic for the floor, because he, like her, was too good for this and was prepared, at least for certain things. Second was that the Punisher, as Foggy had mentioned, was standing nervously off to the side, looking at the figure on the plastic.

"Is that Spiderman?" Foggy grimaced at her exclamation, and Frank nodded, equal parts sheepish and fearful. "Ok. Ok. Fuck. What happened?"

"Single gunshot wound to the abdomen, unclear on the damage, had to cauterize the wound to move him." Frank rattled his prognosis of rapid fire without looking up from the prone form on the plastic sheets.

"Ok. Foggy, can you-" She gestured to the pair of scissors that was easiest to use, and he nodded, beginning to cut away at the suit around the entry wound.

With the wound open, she shooed him off.

"Wake Matt up."

"Wh-"

"I need him to listen for injuries."

Foggy nodded and rushed off towards Matt's room.

She cleans up the wound, assessing the cauterization and looking for shrapnel. Matt enters the room bleary eyed, but he becomes more alert when he hears what's happening.

"Can you listen for-"

"No shrapnel, sounds like a through and through. No organs hit, or anything, but he's lost some blood. Kind of a lot, actually."

"Fuck, I didn't check for an exit wound." Frank sounds absolutely defeated, and she designates him to boiling water duty.

"Everyone's blood types. Go."

"B positive, but you knew that already."

"I did, Matt, thank you."

Foggy yells from the kitchen, where he's shepherding a very depressed Frank Castle. "O negative, I think."

A very depressed Frank Castle quietly tells her that he's AB positive.

"Foggy."

"On my way!"

She hooks Foggy up to a transfusion bag that she then hooks up to Spiderman. Foggy is remarkably cool about this, and when he notices her hesitation, he smiles just a little. 

"I gave a lot of blood back in college."

After a few minutes, Spiderman's blood pressure is back to a relatively safe area and she sends Foggy to go eat something and take a nap. She keeps monitoring vitals, but for the rest of the night, they stay stable, and she even convinces Frank to take a shift so she can nap. When she wakes up, it's 10 in the morning, and Frank is sitting on the floor next to the couch she napped on, watching Spiderman. She takes his vitals, which are fine, and gets up to brew coffee. At some point, Foggy joins her quietly. 

"Convinced Matt to go to court. Forgot giving blood takes that much out of you."

"It doesn't, not normally." She frowns. "I don't have a hospital to get blood from anymore."

"Yeah. I'm sorry about... well, the ninjas, I guess."

"Not your fault."

He smiles at her, a small, wry smile. "It was fucking ninjas, though."

They both burst into quiet, exhausted laughter standing over the pot of coffee, which is far too big for a single person to own and drink from on a regular basis, but is perfect for the vigilant and vigilante adjacent people currently using the coffee pot.

Claire goes about her morning routine as best she can: her go bag has a change of a shirt, so she washes her face in Matt's bathroom and changes as best she can, letting the blood on her other shirt soak in cold water. She checks Spiderman's vitals again, and it only really hits her just then that this is Spiderman. Like, the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, who the Daily Bugle hates and old ladies and kids love. And he's laying on a sheet of plastic in Matt Murdock's apartment because the Punisher carried him here. She glances towards Frank on a whim, and she notices that he hasn't moved since she woke up, and if she were a betting woman, she would bet that he was there for a long time before she woke up too.

"Hey, are you ok?" Claire sits down on the floor beside Frank, lowering herself slowly and telegraphing her movements, keeping her voice low and steady.

He doesn't answer.

"He's going to be fine."

Frank still doesn't answer, just sits, staring at the prone form of Spiderman.

"I'm awake now, you don't have to watch him, I'm doing that."

He relaxes a little, a small grain of tension easing out of his shoulders, but he still doesn't answer.

"Can I touch your shoulder? I know sometimes if someone is feeling overwhelmed, having something that can ground them is helpful."

Frank still doesn't answer, but he takes a deep, shaky breath in that Claire takes as an ok.

"I'm going to touch your shoulder now, ok? Tell me if you don't want me to." Frank takes another deep inhale, and Claire slowly puts her hand on his shoulder, moving it slowly, calmingly, like her mama used to do. 

Frank doesn't speak, and at this point Claire has decided that he's probably nonverbal right now, so she just talks.

"When I was a kid, my sister used to get these horrible panic attacks, and she would hyperventilate and all that stuff for a bit, but mostly she would just freeze. Just stop moving, and she would try not to breathe as much as possible. My mama, she would come up to her, and really slowly, she would put her hand on her shoulder, like this, and sometimes she would sing to my sister, just little folk songs, stuff like that."

Claire takes a breath, and she reconciles the fact that she's going to sing a lullaby to the Punisher with herself, and that the thing she's most anxious about is her shitty Spanish.

"Canta y no llores, porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindo, los corazones  
De la sierra, morena, cielito lindo, vienen bajando  
Un par de ojitos negros, cielito lindo, de contrabando"

She pauses in between verses to take a breath, and she realizes that Frank is humming along. 

"Ese lunar que tienes  
Cielito lindo, junto a la boca  
No se lo des a nadie, cielito lindo  
Que a mí me toca"

She's singing a refrain when Frank takes a big shaky breath. "Mi... mi mama, ella cantaba cuando yo chico."

"Tu mama mexicana?" Claire tries to hide her surprise at Frank's apparent heritage.

"Si. Mi... mi papa es de... Sicily." Frank pauses, trying to figure out the words. "Mi mama, yo pensó ella fue latina. Yo no se, exactamente."

"Yo comprendo. Mi mama enseno mi y mi hermana espanol, solamente para la casa. No para nada fuera de Harlem."

"Mi papá no quería su hijo hablar espanol. El..." Frank stops again, struggling with the words. "After... after he left... She tried to teach me. Wasn't very good."

Claire takes one of his hands in hers.

"Yo muy contento que tu comparto con mi." 

He doesn't look her in the eyes, but she thinks that he's a little watery eyed.

She squeezes his hand. "Thank you. You helped him a lot." She nods to Spiderman. "If you ever need my help..." Frank nods quickly and brusquely.

They sit in silence for a little while, before Foggy comes back with groceries neither of them noticed he left to get, and they make a weird sort of brunch with the health nut food Matt has in his fridge and the normal people food Foggy brought. They end up eating a kale scramble that Foggy put enough bacon into to make it mildly edible and some toast, along with the rest of the coffee that they threw in the microwave to make it less depressing.

Frank does the dishes startlingly fast, and Claire starts to dry them by the time he's half finished. When she joins him, he nods in acknowledgment and moves his attention back to the frying pan he was scrubbing. 

"How'd you know how to talk to people like me?" Frank's question surprises her after the moments of companionable silence washing dishes.

"Uhm, well. I'm a nurse?" She manages to stutter out a coherent response, and when he looks at her blankly, she very eloquently lets out a long "Uhh". "It's a part of nursing? Like dealing with that sorta thing? Panic attacks, nonverbal patients." She pauses. "And. Uhm. My sister, she had stuff like that a lot, when she was younger. And like, it's pretty common? Among... uhm. This type of work? It's nothing to be ashamed of. It just... happens, sometimes." Claire tries to stop herself before she goes into full health care professional mode.

Frank cracks a smile at the beginning of healthcare professional mode. "Sound a lot like my friend."

"He a nurse too?"

"Corpsman." Her gaze must have been a little too blank, because Frank clarifies. "Medic. For the Marines. Runs stuff for vets, now."

"Sounds like he's a good person."

"He is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope yall enjoyed! As always comments literally give me light in the darkness of quarantine writing sludge, and if you want to yell at me about the characters I write, I'm @weepingalpacafuneral on tumblr.
> 
> About the Claire & Frank scene: I'm mixed white Hispanic, and my grandpa never taught my dad Spanish or any of his culture because of the climate my dad grew up in, and I headcanon Frank as Hispanic and Sicilian, and Claire is afro latina, and I really like the idea of Frank seeking out his heritage like I am! The Spanish probably is pretty bad because the American school system and Duolingo taught me most of my very little Spanish, but I kind of think that adds to the interaction? Any comments about the scene are so, so welcome!


	3. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up! 
> 
> Ft.  
> Matt's childhood trauma  
> Claire being not only competent, but also being literally just the best  
> Foggy being Foggy  
> Frank having social skills equivalent to how ridiculous a narwhal looks (Narwhals are amazing and I love them but they're just two tubes stuck together and one of the tubes is really a cylinder and it's sharp)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some discussion of a previously sustained injury (gunshot wound).  
> Also some discussion of child soldier stuff in relation to Matt and Peter.  
> Also there are more swears than usual. Especially from Matt, but also some from Peter.

Peter wakes up to a door slamming open and yelling.

“Would someone perhaps like to enlighten me as to why in the absolute fucking world there is a fucking child on my floor with a fucking gunshot wound?”

A kid with a gunshot wound, that’s not good, but it would be helpful if Peter could tell where he was, or if the searing pain in his side would go away.

Someone else starts talking, trying to calm the person who’s yelling down, it seems. Another person starts speaking, and it’s a voice that Peter knows but can’t quite place, and they’re talking about Spiderman getting shot, and Oh, fuck, Peter got shot. 

He takes a bit to connect that the pain he’s feeling is from being shot, and then the fact that he doesn't recognize where he is becomes a bigger problem than having been shot. He’s not in a hospital. He’s not home, either. He’s staring up at a hardwood ceiling with no ornamentation, and he’s laying on something soft but firm, probably a couch with plastic over it. The arguing from what’s probably another room because of how the sound is muffled despite his enhanced hearing is still happening, so Peter could probably make an escape. Probably. He tries moving his legs and feels a little too much like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill and he just really wants to get out, so he just pitches himself off the couch legs first. 

He lands on the edge of a coffee table, knocking it over, and he has to brace himself against the couch and the coffee table, and even though he didn’t hit the part of his side that hurt, he must have put strain on it or something because it hurts even more than it did, enough for him to let out an involuntary ‘Fuck’ after collapsing to the floor.

So much for Peter’s stealth mission.

\--

Frank wakes up to a door slamming open and an absolutely incensed Matt Murdock ready to yell at the first person he happens to come across. 

“Would someone perhaps like to enlighten me as to why in the absolute fucking world there is a fucking child on my floor with a fucking gunshot wound?” 

Red is fucking furious, and he is intent on making that absolutely clear, even when Nelson intercepts him and gently closes the door Red glowers at him. Nelson is trying to mitigate Red, asking about court, everyday bullshit, but Red isn’t having it and he marches right up to Frank, glaring up with all the malevolence his 5’ 10’’ glory and he just stands there and waits.  
“Francis?” Red cocks his head, and it’s a tense movement, like the rest of Red’s body is tight with adrenaline in the anticipation of a fight. Which, with Red, a fight isn’t probably that far off in the future.

Frank gives the most barebones facts: Found Spiderman negotiating, incapacitated the guy, got the girl away, and found Spiderman shot, bad enough that he needed a medic, and Frank ended up in the Kitchen with Daredevil’s superfriends for help.

Red’s expression still hasn’t changed.

“Do you want to explain to me. Why this child- Who you are calling Spiderman, by the way- was doing vigilante work-” Red always speaks carefully, but he speaks with such force that Frank feels the elocution behind his words like a dangerously emphatic beat, and Frank is just about sure Red is just going to start yelling when something crashes in the living room and someone yells ‘Fuck’, and it’s not Frank or Red, and it’s not Nelson either, and it sure as hell isn’t Claire, because it’s a male voice, not a man’s, but a kid’s.

Pretty much everyone rushes out into the living room; Nelson first, and then Frank and Red, and Claire follows from the bathroom where she was cleaning her tools.

Spiderman is half standing, half leaning on part of the couch, bracing himself on a knocked over coffee table and just staring at them, the eyes on his mask cartoonishly wide. He whispers something, and Red snorts and says “Yeah, no shit”. He turns the brunt of his gaze to Red, who cocks his head in questioning.

“Oh fuck. He saw my face, didn’t he. Well, shit.”

“Red, you don’t got your scarf for occasions like this?”

“Fuck off.”

Claire cuts in. “Shut up, we have other stuff to worry about.” She steps forward and waves at Spiderman. “I’m the nurse who treated your injuries. Frank was able to get you here so I could help, and-”

Matt cuts in. “And seriously could no one have warned me that now would be a good time to not do identity shit?” 

\--

Peter is on the floor looking up at probably one of the most interesting gaggles of people he’s ever seen: a nice looking hispanic woman with long kind of wavy hair, a blonde guy with shoulder length hair in a zip up Columbia sweatshirt that’s open revealing a grey binder and sweatpants, a guy with short red hair and red tinted glasses wearing a somewhat ruffled suit who looks incredibly miffed, and the Punisher, again, because of course.

The nice looking hispanic woman introduces herself as a nurse, the person who treated him, and she moves slowly around him, like how people on wildlife rescue shows do, telegraphing their movements and exaggerating them. It feels almost infantilizing, but the Spider Sense likes it, and the banging in his head from the Spider Sense is something that Peter doesn’t really want to deal with right now, so he supposes it’s fine.

The blonde guy is corralling the angry red haired guy away from where Peter is lying on the floor, trying to calm him down. The Punisher is standing awkwardly in the the corner, looking between the blonde guy and the red haired guy and the nice nurse lady like he’s trying to figure out what to do when the nice nurse lady motions for him, and then Peter is being hauled up, not roughly, even though his side is hit with a wave of pain at the movement, and placed on the the couch by the Punisher. The nice nurse lady thanks him, even calls him “Frank”, which makes Peter want to reevaluate the nice nurse lady’s status as nice because how nice can someone who is on a first name basis with the Punisher really be. He stops reevaluating the niceness status when she brings him a glass of water, which he doesn’t really want to drink, but the Spider sense thinks the water is ok, and he’s so thirsty, and if these people were going to kill him they’d’ve already done it, right? Right?

He ends up drinking the water anyways.

\--

Claire has her hands full. She has not one, but two vigilantes idiots, and apparently a third one, now, because Spiderman is a whole child and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t offer her night nursing to the literal child who’s taking on supervillains and helping abuelas cross the street. And oh fuck, Matt is yelling again, even though Foggy’s contained him to the hallway, and it’s something about orphanages and Stick and “not his war” and Claire is going to leave that the fuck alone, thank you very much.

Spiderman is on the floor, so she does what a reasonable vigilante nurse would do: She gestures for the nearest big person to haul the person on the floor onto a slightly more comfortable surface, and Frank does just that because he’s an excellent assistant. And if the bullet wound hurts when Spiderman gets deposited on the couch? Maybe he shouldn’t have moved. She can be a bit spiteful when she’s at her bullshit limit.

She immediately feels bad when she brings him a glass of water and the eyes of his mask go wide and blink a couple of times in surprise before a small voice croaks out a thank you and then the mask blinks again.

“I’m Claire.” She waits for a response but Spiderman doesn’t look to interested in giving her one so she just continues. “I’m a nurse, and I help out some of the people in your line of work. I think I’ve told you this before but you might have been on some pain meds. Frank-” She gestures to where Frank is standing in the corner. “-he found you, contacted me.” Claire takes a deep breath before considering her next words. “You were shot, through and through, no shrapnel and it’s sewed up. Disinfectant and just keeping the wound clean will work fine.” She sends a pleading glance to Foggy to extract her from the one sided conversation with a terrified teenage vigilante and he does, guiding Frank over to a seat perpendicular to the couch Spiderman is laid on, telling him to have a chat while Claire does “nursey stuff”. 

Frank looks freaked out by the prospect, and so does Spiderman, to be honest, but it’s probably fine. Probably.

And then Spiderman faints. Because it turns out. That the last time they had met (which was also the first time they had met) Frank had set a building on fire and Spiderman had been in the building.

\--

“An’ yeah, he was in one of the spots I didn’t check an’ it was a rookie move an’ I fuckin’ regret it because he’s a fuckin’ kid, and he didn’t know I don’t do kids an’ he was freaked as hell.” Frank recounts the time he and Spiderman first met to the audience of a passed out Spiderman, and worried Claire and Foggy, and a furious Matt.

“Francis Castilionge I swear to all that is holy, what. The fuck.” Matt is almost vibrating, and his muscles are clenched and he looks just about ready to snap.

Frank raises his hands in an effort to placate him. “I didn’ see him, after that, and I wasn’t about to go hunt down a kid who’s terrified of me as is, and-”

“Francis fucking Castiglione what even-” 

Nelson comes in to save the day, grabbing Red’s hands and rubbing them soothingly, he even sits Red down and whispers something about child soldier trauma to Frank in apology (or more likely explanation).

“Not a soldier.” It’s a quiet but determined voice that breaks through the drama of the living room, and it’s a voice that doesn’t belong to Frank, or to Claire, or to Nelson or Red. “Stark tried that and I didn’t take to it.”

Spiderman’s statement elicits two reactions: a noise of discomfort at the child soldier thing, and then Foggy turns his head to face the couch and says “Wait, Stark like Tony Stark?”.

“What other Stark would it be?” He’s right, but no one really likes it, and Frank makes a mental note to go digging into Tony Stark’s military contracts and the like. 

“Thank you for the, uh,” he gestures to the bandaged area of his side, “the first aid. I’m maybe in shock right now so I’d best be going, and-” Spiderman makes a move to stand up and just sort of doesn’t. “Fuck.”

\--

“I mean we can’t- like what are we supposed to do, even! This is a fucking child, like an actual child and he’s shot and he clearly doesn’t trust us because if he did trust us that would be an even bigger problem, and what are we even supposed to do?”

“I don’t know Matt! And I know you’re frantically yelling questions at me because you deal with fucked up situations like this but still you are the child soldier vigilante person I am just a dude with a law degree and a dumbass!” Foggy is maybe going to murder his law and possibly life partner for stating the fucking obvious and just generally being unhelpful.

“I also have a law degree and a dumbass it’s not entirely-”

“The dumbass is your own fucking dumbassness you absolute-”

“Guys please. Please. We actually have to like, do something about this.” Claire has something on her hands-probably blood from changing the bandages on Spiderman’s gunshot wound- and she’s remarkable calm, stoic even, until Foggy remembers her dealing with macho assholes trying to fight in the ER, and it’s clear that off all of the people in the room- two vigilantes, two lawyers, two civilians, Claire has the most experience with something like this. A scared kid stuck in something he probably shouldn't be stuck in who got hurt bad.

He defers to her quickly, abandoning his argument with Matt. It was a bullshit argument anyways, a cheap way to distract from the real fuck ups and problems.

Claire is facing Spiderman on the couch, and she’s half crouching so she’s on his level.

“Spiderman, I’m not a vigilante. Which is pretty obvious, really.” 

Frank drags over a futon for her to sit on and she nods to acknowledge him and takes the futon.

“But.” She shoots a glance at Matt and sets her jaw. “You’re what, 16? 17? And you’re out there? Doing what they-” she gestures to Matt and Frank, both standing awkwardly at the edge of the room “-what they do?”

The eyes of Spiderman’s suit narrow into slits and he takes a deep but shaky breath, and his voice is steeled when he speaks. 

“Have to.” 

Matt makes a move to interject, opening his mouth and closing it and opening it again like a confused koi fish. The eyes of the Spiderman suit narrow even further, which didn’t seem possible until it happened, and they focus on Frank and Matt for a while.

“Have to. With great power. Great responsibility.”

Frank snorts and Foggy punches him even before Matt does, and shoots him a look that he would like to think says ‘Really man?’ but probably says ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’.

Spiderman straight up glares at Frank and Foggy is seriously considering the saying ‘if looks could kill’. He whispers something that Foggy can’t quite pick up, but judging by Matt’s expression of confusion and Frank’s expression of anger it probably wasn’t good.

\--

“You said she loved dinosaurs.” Frank isn't an angry man, he tries not to be. He really does. But so long of hunting the people who killed your family can make you a lot of things you try not to be. 

He regrets that his first reaction was anger when a vulnerable, wounded Spiderman reminded him that he had shared one of the very closest things to his heart with a stranger he had accidentally trapped in a burning warehouse. He regrets that he laughed when he heard a vulnerable, wounded Spiderman said “With great power comes great responsibility”. He regrets a lot of things.

But he especially regrets them when a distressed Spiderman whispers to him “He told me that when he died”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer chapter this time! Look forward to seeing what happens with May next time though!
> 
> Hope yall enjoyed, I'm at weepingalpacafuneral on tumblr if you want to come hang out or ask me stuff or just talk about these wonderful characters!


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